Problematic

I feel inclined to perform again. I suppose if what I really want is a one-sided fanatical love performing may eventually get me there. Otherwise it might help me to deal better with rejection. It might feel less personal if it's not one-on-one. Ultimately, I miss singing. Though I was never fantastic at it, and even more at a loss the few times I had an audience, I find myself charmed once again at the thought of putting my thoughts to melody for others to hum when they feel the same way. I still need to buy batteries for my keyboard. My next goal will be an electronic drum set. I realized earlier, as I was getting out of the car after coming home from house sitting for the ex, that mentioning my current medicated status is somewhat silly. I noted I forgot to take my medication yesterday, and hadn't really considered when I would do so today, but either way I only had two days worth in my system and it was highly unlikely that had begun to effect me in a significant wa

I haven't been able to sketch lately, but at least I have been able to write, I suppose. I feel I should be reading more as well. I began reading The Stranger again, and that has been a slow trough through venomous mediocrity. I don't know if I get it. I'm also trying to read Mansfield Park but have had some trouble getting through the foreword. Perhaps I don't need to read it, but I have learned some interesting perspectives from forewords and so I inclined to preserver (a word I thought had an e at the end). I have started receiving mail at my new apartment. Packages. In my fridge there is eggs, kale, mushrooms, baby carrots, diet cherry Dr. Pepper, Le Croix, and hard cider (a special summer ginger flavor!) Of these things I have only used the Dr. Pepper and the Le Croix. Oh, and a Brita! I purchased that on my second day here. There's clothes, blankets and books strewn across the floor which makes the space feel comfortably snug. The bed on one end, open to a

A day of multiple posts!! A day of sadness and regret... A day of Elliott Smith. I need to get batteries for my keyboard. I am annoyed that it needs batteries and wish to protest, but I also wish to learn to play several things, and I am sure the latter urge will break through my tantrum. I started a list, briefly: Interpol, Elliot Smith, The Strokes, Beirut. Perhaps I will eventually start a band, or join a band, and in doing so further prove my worth. Sometimes I miss singing. But I am conflicted in all aspects of my own beauty and talent, so I don't dare to sing aloud when not drunk anymore. Or in the company of my former love. I suppose that was the one intimacy I allowed. It's weird now, being so emotionally and physically distant from someone I have loved for so long. I imagine it's likely less painful for him now that there's an expectation of distance. So I keep waffling between the amount of vulnerability I should show, especially after my first big e

It seems that now that I am on my own this blog is living up to it's tag line a little more. Freedom seems to be more of a burden than anything else. Maybe because I am not giving myself enough time to properly be free? The apartment is lonely without the cats. My ex has his daughter so his life is better fulfilled without me and for the most part my friends are coupled, whether with significant others or siblings. So I jumped on Bumble because it seemed a like a better quality of guy than Tinder. Maybe I shouldn't have allowed myself that illusion. In the week that I have been on the app I have had two dates and two hook-ups. I think I might need to go back on my medication. I am not sure how healthy any of this has been. My first "date", and my favorite, was a hook-up that just led to me being ghosted. Or perhaps the guy was actually nice and tragically died after leaving my apartment. I might toy with different narratives that allow me to smooth over the

My friends and I have hit a very weird age. We've accepted we are most likely never getting married (except for the one who did, that bitch) and have moved on to the pursuit of being fabulous drag-queens. All I have ever wanted in life is to be a beautiful gay boy in amazingly elaborate costume. RuPaul's Drag Race is our new home. I recognize that this is probably appropriation, but The Lonely Hearts Club Band can't escape who they are any more than anyone else can. My greatest disappointment in life is probably that I will never be as gorgeous and interesting as Sharon Needles. I need this. I need them. "If you can't love yourself, how in the hell are you going to love somebody else?" has become my new mantra. Especially since I think I just got ghosted. That's okay, though. My sense of self-worth still relies too heavily on the way I might be perceived by others. It's crippling emotionally and creatively, so I have to let this go. If someone can&

I hate that song, but the title seemed appropriate. I turned 28 last week. It was both uneventful and unpleasant: I moved into my own apartment the day before, had some laundry stolen, bought my own bed, started taking stock of my existence alone. Oh, and signed up for krav maga classes that I start on Tuesday. At the moment I am trying to devise the most cost-effective plan for organizing my new space. I think now that I'm on my own I should try harder to look like a functioning human being. It's easier to excuse yourself from being able to hide your mess when there is someone else's mess mixed into it. At the very least I have never lived out of bags and I don't intend to start now. I also think it would be better to free-up areas where I can paint or do yoga, like someone who has it together. Side note: I am not currently taking my medication. I have it. But I forget to...and at the moment I feel fine. Although a little anxious. I am trying to repeat things t